


Run, Neon Tiger

by ContreParry



Category: Hot Guy P.I. (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Cameo Appearance by The World's Raddest Women, Gen, Investigations, M/M, Strangers to Coworkers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: Romeo Fernando Sy is a lot of things to a lot of people. He’s a driver, an impromptu therapist, a tour guide, and a dad. Nando also has a secret: he moonlights as the masked vigilante with super-strength, The Tiger. But when he teams up with investigative journalist Schmidt to take down the pharmaceutical company Jilead Inc., Nando wonders how long he can manage to keep all these parts of his life separate and the people he cares for safe.
Relationships: Schmidt/Nando Sy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Away, away, oh, run

You saw a lot of things when you were a driver.

There was the normal shit, of course, and Nando usually dealt with the normal shit. You had your good passengers, and you had the bad ones. There were loud ones, the quiet ones, and the ones in-between. There were the pickups from the bars and nightclubs, where he offered a paper bag to the queasy, played pop songs for the rowdy, and provided a quiet ride for the tired. He answered questions for the tourists (where’s a good local spot for breakfast, where’s the best brewpub, where should we go to really experience the city). He chatted with the talkative (and offered advice if he was able). Nando was used to those rides, the simple, short, regular ones where nothing noteworthy happened. He ferried his passengers to their destinations, got paid, and got on with things.

But then there were the special rides, the ones that Nando held close to his heart after the long days and nights. There were the parents coming out of the hospital, brimming with joy and pride and nerves as they gushed about their new kid- and Nando let them talk, because God did he know the feeling! There were the old folks making a trip to the doctor, to the pharmacist, to the nursing home or bingo or a friend’s apartment, and Nando liked to listen to them talk about their kids and grandkids and friends and pets and all the neighborhood gossip. He had a library of gossip stored in his head now, decades of rivalries and loves and rumors gifted to him from the folks seated in the back of his car (“Did you know? Have you heard? Let me tell you!”).

But by far Nando’s favorite passenger was the brand new face coming in from the airport. They were all wide-eyed and wondering as they took in the city for the very first time. Nando liked to drive down the bridge into town for those rides so his passengers could watch the skyscrapers grasp at clouds and the city lights glimmer like diamonds under a spotlight. This is the city, he’d think with no small amount of pride. This is my home.

That pride thrummed in his veins and echoed with every beat of heart when he looked out over the skyline. His city. His home. It might not be the entire world, but it was Nando’s world and he loved every corner of it, the mundane and the spectacular and everything in-between. And on certain nights, when Nadia was with Daniela and he wasn’t driving, Nando pulled on his uniform and went to his second job.

“-it’s dockside,” a sharp voice crackled to life in Nando’s ear as he leapt from building to building, rooftop to rooftop. “Big ol’ science experiment gone wrong. Can’t miss it.”

“On it, Needle,” Nando replied as he swung himself over a ledge and swung over to the next building. 

Running the rooftops came naturally to him now, all the hours of practice written into his muscle and sinew. Bend the knees, take the shock of impact, roll, crouch, run. Just like knowing the best brunch spots or the quickest route to Sisters of Mercy Hospital, the superhero gig was something Nando liked. He liked helping people. He liked that his enormous strength and unnatural endurance was something that he could use for good instead of pretending it wasn’t there. Also, Nando liked the running. Good exercise. Kept him busy. Kept him outside of his own head for a bit.

“Look, Tiger, Oracle’s tracking down the scientists that Frankenstein-ed this bullshit, so I’m gonna dip and help her out,” Needle’s voice sounded strange through his earpiece, metallic and far away. “Aaaaaand we need someone to wrangle this fucker and get ‘em contained. You in?”

“You know it,” Nando said. He cracked his knuckles and grinned as he tugged his mask over his face. He saw something that looked like neon green melted cheese flop and ooze its way down the street away from an empty dockside loading area.

Time to get to work.

-

Lime green melted cheese monster wasn’t exactly hard to handle. Actually, it was pretty easy to deal with once Nando realized it wasn’t malicious- it was just a mass of really big, glowing, moving mold. So Nando lured it into a shipping container with a pile of garbage inside and let Needle and Oracle know what was up. He usually let them take care of the details. They had Connections, and Nando didn’t like lingering in one place for too long- especially on school nights. Sometimes Nadia would call and ask for his help on an English paper and it was really, really hard to talk Shakespeare when you were running along the rooftops and doing superhero stuff like convincing sentient mold the size of a Mini Cooper to slide its way into a shipping container. So with Needle and Oracle on the way and the ‘threat’ contained (and the big guy wasn’t that intimidating, it was just a hungry slime-mold!), Nando decided it was time to wrap it up and call it a night.

“So. The Tiger, I presume,” a crisp, low voice declared behind him, and Nando nearly jumped out of his suit and skin at the sound. Nando whipped around and there, standing under a streetlamp like he just walked off the set of some Golden Age Hollywood detective movie, was a man. Possibly the hottest man to ever live (at least, as far as Nando knew, he didn't keep up with this shit). He was wearing a dark grey wool pea coat that _screamed_ expensive. All of him looked expensive, from his slicked back dark hair to the tips of his polished shoes (black, shiny, leather?). He had sharp cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and possessed this aloof demeanor that screamed “I am a man of mystery, don’t try and understand me.” So Nando did what he always did when confronted with someone new who knocked him off his rhythm.

He started talking.

“Uh, yeah? That’s me. The Tiger,” Nando declared sheepishly. He was trying for bravado or assuredness, but the sudden appearance of this man threw him for a loop. He hadn’t heard him at all! He hadn’t sensed him, and Nando always had excellent hearing, along with the super strength and stamina. He always told Nadia it was part of being a parent, eyes on the back of his head and supersonic hearing, and he didn’t go too deep into it. There were some things you kept a secret, even from your kid. Especially from your kid, Nando thought grimly. You couldn’t exactly tell a thirteen year old “hey your dad does parkour and fights crime when you’re at your mom’s, don’t tell anyone.” Not to mention that Daniela would kill him if she ever found out (“Romeo Fernando Sy, you’re damn near thirty-fucking-two years old! How long d’you think you can keep this up?!”).

The original point was this: Nando had good hearing and excellent instincts, and this guy just…appeared. Poof! Like magic!

“Just wrapped up work here, I suggest you, uh, move along? Just in case. I don’t think it’s dangerous, but better safe than sorry, right?” Nando added when the man didn’t say anything and the silence stretched out for a little too long for his own comfort.

“Hmmmm,” the man hummed, sounding bored. Glamorously bored, like this entire scene was just a set for a magazine spread. He walked (strolled?) towards Nando, his shoes making a sharp sounding click every time his heel hit the pavement. Eventually the man stopped moving, just out of Nando’s reach. He looked over at the closed container, then back at Nando, then back at the container and the trail of glowing green slime that led into it.

“Not dangerous, you say?” he asked softly. He kept staring at Nando like he could look past the mask and at his actual face, and Nando almost reached up to touch and make sure the damn thing was still on his head. Still there, covering his head and upper face, leaving his nose and jawline exposed. Nando wondered if he should try and upgrade the suit, but that meant asking Needle for a favor, and she'd ask questions and probably tease him for flushing like a teenager because some hot guy was staring at him.

“Yeah. I think it was just... hungry?” Nando offered.

“Interesting,” the man replied, crouching down to examine the slime trail. “Any idea who’s behind it? The slime monster?”

“N- well, kinda? Like, there’s a lead but I let my… associates handle that part. I’m more of the damage control guy,” Nando said quickly. “Speaking of that, you’re a civilian and should definitely get away from that slime-”

“I’m Schmidt. Investigative journalist. Do you have time for an interview?” The man, Schmidt, asked. He stood up in one smooth, elegant movement. It was like there was a wire running through him from the top of his head and down through his spine, and a giant invisible hand pinched that wire and slowly pulled him up until he was standing eye-to-eye with Nando. His grey eyes gleamed like polished silver under the streetlights.

“I, uh, have a few minutes?” Nando offered, and Schmidt’s stern expression melted into a heartbreakingly, knee-weakening smile. Not that Nando’s knees went weak. His heart definitely didn’t stutter. He just _noticed_ because he was good at picking up on details!

“Excellent! You’re good with pictures, yes?” Schmidt asked, and Nando nodded as Schmidt pulled out his phone and began to take pictures.

“The light’s shit, can’t pick up the neon pink or green stripes at all,” he complained. “But it’ll do.” As he took pictures on his phone, Schmidt started a rapid fire questioning- interrogation, really, grilling Nando on everything he saw, the lackluster battle with the mold monster, and its eventual containment in the metal shipping container. Before Nando could even fully comprehend what was going on, Schmidt slid his phone into his coat pocket and pulled out a card.

“Pleasure interviewing you,” he said crisply. “If you ever feel the urge to talk to the press, here’s my card.”

“Right. Uh, nice meeting you?” Nando replied. Asked.

“Of course. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon,” Schmidt replied, and his mouth twisted up into a sly kind of smile. Smirk? Why was it so hard to figure out how words worked around this guy? As Schmidt walked off towards the road, Nando leaned against the storage container to wait for Needle and Oracle and their “contacts.” Schmidt’s business card sat in his suit pocket next to his phone, and Nando swore he wouldn’t spare it a second thought. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the navy blue text, the slanted, elegant font, and the crisp, thick paper. Mostly, Nando couldn’t stop thinking about what Schmidt said. Investigative journalist. Interview. See each other soon.

Nando didn’t do interviews. The whole Schmidt thing was a one-off. He was surprised and thrown off his game and maybe a little charmed by Schmidt’s directness, but Nando didn’t do interviews. Interviews meant attention, meant talking to people, meant that more people would take notice of The Tiger and someone might start making connections, and that meant that his normal life and the vigilante life would start intersecting more than they should. It wasn’t safe, and Nando was already taking enough risks.

“I’ll throw it away,” he muttered as a helicopter approached the docks and his communicator began to beep in his ear. “I’ll throw it out and that’ll be it.”

It was just a business card, after all. And who put only their first name on a business card? Ridiculous!

-

“Dad, check it out!” Nadia exclaimed as she hopped into the backseat, hair falling into her big brown eyes. Nando smiled as Nadia buckled her seatbelt, her phone clutched in her hand.

“Hey kiddo, how was school?” he asked. Nadia groaned before pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Fine. Chemistry sucked but what else is new? But DAD! Check it OUT!” Nadia held up her phone for him to look at, but she was moving around so much that Nando only got a glimpse of black and neon pink before she put the phone back down.

“Check what out?” he asked.

“So, I had to read and do a write up on local news for our Journalism class, and I was _going_ to talk about the Hatsune Miku concert in Boston and, like, what that means for entertainment and stuff, BUT!” Nadia took a deep breath and rushed on. “But there was an article! An interview! With The Tiger!”

“What?!” Nando asked, and he was glad he hadn’t pulled out of his parking spot because he definitely would’ve hit the breaks at that. Shit, Schmidt was _serious_ about the interview thing? He’d almost convinced himself it was a dream. It had been a few days since their encounter, and Nando was sure- no, positive- that Schmidt was just some weird, hot guy who liked trailing after superheroes or something.

“I mean, it was, what? A couple sentences? But yeah, the new investigative journalist for The Herald snagged an interview with the city’s most elusive superhero!” Nadia exclaimed, her big brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Nando pushed down his own panic and smiled at his daughter before starting up the car.

“That’s a pretty big story, huh?” Nando asked. His daughter’s bright grin brought joy and anxiety to his heart.

“The biggest! I mean, why talk about Hatsune Miku when we can talk about our own local celeb? Didn’t even know The Tiger had neon stripes on his suit. Can you believe to learn?” Nadia asked, and she returned to texting on her phone. “He even got some great pictures to go with it!”

“Huh,” Nando murmured as he merged into a lane, heading back to his apartment. “Send me a link, will ya?”

“Sure, Dad,” Nadia replied, already fixated on whatever was on her phone.

Later that night, when Nadia was tucked into her bed and pretending to sleep while watching her K-Pop fancams, Nando stood on his fire escape and read Schmidt’s article, scrolling through the ads and pausing at every picture, then scrolling back up to read the title again.

_**Vigilante Hero Captures Science Experiment: Pharmaceutical Company Maintains Silence**_

_Briarport, NY- An incident that occurred late last Tuesday night on the Brairport Docks has authorities stumped. A sentient slime mold was accidentally released into the streets, where it proceeded to make its way to dockside until the timely intervention of local vigilante superhero The Tiger._

_“It’s like it came out of nowhere!” Officer Devon Chesterton of Brairport PD stated, speaking of the slime. “As soon as calls started coming in [about the sentient slime mold], we used our tracking system. But it disappeared and reappeared like it was teleporting or something!”_

_Brairport PD invested nearly $15,000 to purchase and train officers in the use of the Safety Net ™ system, a comprehensive radar and communications network that tracks unusual spikes of energy in the city. While the slime mold mostly evaded the new system’s sophisticated radar, Briarport PD seems satisfied with the results of the first test run of the system._

_“There are always kinks to work out when implementing [a new system],” Chief of the Briarport Police Department, Bianca Alvarez, said during a press conference on Wednesday. “But we managed to track some of the slime mold’s movements, and we can fine tune and improve the system.”_

_The slime mold was safely captured thanks to the timely intervention of Briarport’s unofficial guardians, the vigilante superheroes Needle, Oracle, and The Tiger._

_“It wasn’t exactly dangerous,” The Tiger explained. “I think it was just hungry and looking for food. It was kind of a relief, to be honest!”_

_While The Tiger did not talk shop or place blame, his associate, Oracle, stated that the sentient slime originated from a pharmaceutical lab owned and operated by Jilead Inc.. At the time of publishing Jilead Inc. has not responded to The Herald’s request for comments._

The article was accompanied by several pictures. There was one shot of the slime mold oozing out of an open manhole, and another of it making its way down the street towards the docks. Then there were pictures of Nando in uniform. Nando leaping across the gaps between buildings. Nando crouched on top of a shipping container, trying to lure the slime monster in. Nando standing, masked face in profile, under the street lights, the reflective neon pink and green stripes even brighter against the blackness of his suit.

It was a short piece, pretty much unremarkable, but the pictures. The pictures! Nando couldn’t get them out of his head.

Couldn’t get Schmidt out of his head.

Nando thought of his encounter with the man, thought of the sharp outline of his silhouette as he walked towards him last night on the docks, staring him down with steely eyes. Nando glanced at the article again, taking careful note of every picture. That manhole was on Fourth and Maple. That building was on the corner of Madison Ave. and Stanford Park NE. How long was Schmidt following the slime mold? How long was Schmidt following _him_?

“I’ll see you around,” Schmidt had said, and Nando had this horrible sinking feeling that Schmidt meant it.


	2. There's a mystery underneath those neon lights

Nando ran into Schmidt a lot sooner than he expected. A lot lot sooner. So much sooner that Nando was a little freaked out by it, to be honest. Nando told himself it was coincidence, but that didn’t pop that horrible bubble of anxiety and fear that welled up inside him. It didn’t help that he couldn’t exactly say anything or ask questions (like “How the actual hell did you find me?”) or even have a quiet freak out in his car, because Schmidt was currently sitting in the backseat while Nando drove him around downtown Briarport. He apparently needed to head to the courthouse, and Nando wasn’t going to pry. There were lots of reasons to go to the courthouse!

“So, been in town long?” Nando asked cautiously, glancing into his rear view mirror at Schmidt. Schmidt looked as cool and glamorous as he had the night they met. The grey pea coat was replaced with some sort of black cloak thing with silver metal accents at the tips of the lapel. He was also wearing gloves. Skin tight, black gloves. Schmidt was busy scrolling through his phone, but he looked up when Nando asked his question. Their eyes met in the mirror, pale grey meeting brown.

“How do you know I’m new here?” Schmidt asked, his voice low and even.

“Uhhh, educated guess?” Nando offered weakly. “I drive a lot in this area, so most of my customers are regulars.” That seemed to pass Schmidt’s bullshit detector, because he shrugged and those sharp grey eyes returned to his phone screen.

“Hmmm. Yeah, I’m new. Moved here two weeks ago,” Schmidt remarked. “Job transfer.”

“Really?” Nando asked. Yeah, he knew Schmidt was a journalist, but he was curious about the guy! He had to be for his own safety. If his secret identity got out… Nando suppressed a shudder and lowered his gaze to the road. He just needed to head up to the courthouse and drop his passenger- Schmidt- off. Normal day at work. This was fine. This was _fine_! He was a big boy, he could handle this. Schmidt was a normal passenger! Besides, Nando dealt with plenty of people on a day to day basis, people that he also sometimes ran into when he was running around the city as The Tiger! That was normal in a city like Briarport, where it often felt smaller than it actually was. No one had unmasked The Tiger before, so why would it be different now?

But, Nando thought, none of those people happened to be an investigative journalist with piercing grey eyes and the ability to keep up with him when he was on the run. Schmidt felt different from other people who met both parts of him- Normal Nando and The Tiger. Nando couldn’t explain it, exactly. He just felt… cautious around Schmidt, like he didn’t quite know what would happen next around the guy.

“Yeah. I’m a journalist. Where’s a good coffee shop around here?” Schmidt asked. Nando was a generous, if anxious, soul. He recommended six coffee shops and bakeries, then threw in a tea shop for good measure, and when he finally got to the courthouse and Schmidt exited Nando let out a sigh of relief. That was easy. Easy! Coincidences happened sometimes, Nando reminded himself. It didn’t _mean_ anything. He’d be fine!

There was a knock on his window. Nando turned his head and was met with Schmidt staring at him through the passenger side door. Nando cautiously rolled his window down.

“Hey,” Schmidt said. “If it isn’t any trouble, I’m just here to grab some documents on file, it should take five minutes. If you’re willing to wait I’ll pay for another ride back to the office.”

Nando wasn’t planning on waiting. Sure, maybe Schmidt would be out in five minutes, and it wasn’t like Nando was going to find another customer that quickly, but that most likely wouldn’t happen. Also, this was Schmidt, Investigative Journalist, who he ran into last week while doing superhero stuff, and Nando really, really didn’t want to spend more time with the guy. Nando just… kinda sucked at keeping secrets. It was hard enough keeping his identity under wraps from his own family, but a journalist? An _investigative_ journalist? Who promised to “see him soon?” Yeah, Nando wasn’t going to take any chances. But then Schmidt…

Schmidt smiled. His grey eyes crinkled up at the corners, his smile wide. It was sort of like a cute puppy dog smile, all bright eyed and eager, and Nando was- he just- it was-

“Yeah, I can wait,” Nando replied, because he was soft and like putty when hot people smiled at him. So as Schmidt strode into the courthouse, taking the steps two at a time with his long legs, Nando slouched in his seat and settled in for the wait. He glowered at himself in the side mirror, glaring at his reflection’s flushed cheeks.

“This is all your fault,” he accused his reflection. He really didn’t need this right now. Hanging around Schmidt was like he was actively looking for someone to uncover his secret: yes please, Mr. Investigative Journalist, please link my real life with my superhero persona, I would like that very much! But one happy, cute smile and Nando folded like a house of cards.

“Just get a hold of yourself, Nando,” he ordered. “Pick the guy up and drop him off at his job. And hopefully he won’t run into you while you’re working off the clock and put two and two together.” 

Maybe it was time to suck it up and ask Needle for help with a new costume, something that covered his entire face this time. It would make hiding his identity easier, even if it was a little uncomfortable. But also it meant talking to Needle, who really picked a moniker that fit her. She liked to poke and prod and stab stab stab until she got to the heart of things, and then she stabbed some more until she won. It didn’t even matter if there was a fight- Needle made it a fight, a fight where she always emerged victorious. So maybe Nando wouldn’t ask for a favor from Needle. Maybe he’d go and do it himself and hope for the best.

Schmidt was surprisingly true to his word. It was barely seven minutes into his wait when Schmidt strode out of the glass doors and hurried down the stairs, a thick Manila folder under his arm. He paused, caught sight of Nando in his car, and waved.

“Sorry for the delay, Shelly’s having a baby shower. Cupcake?” Schmidt held up a cupcake smothered in frosting the same yellow color as a duckling’s fuzzy down feathers and smiled charmingly. At least, Nando was charmed by it. He took the cupcake and chomped down, sugar sprinkles and overly-sweet frosting caking his tongue.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Back to the office?”

“Yeah, got to get to work,” Schmidt replied as he clambered into the back seat, long limbs squishing into the cramped quarters. Somehow he still managed to look elegant through the entire process, which was a remarkable feat.

“Thanks for waiting, by the way,” Schmidt added, and Nando shrugged and tried not to blush. God damn it he needed to stop it, he was acting like some dumb teen with all the blushing and staring and wondering!

“No problem,” Nando said, and he really, really wished that he was being honest about that. He didn’t want Schmidt to be a problem. The guy was likeable in a “super refined but also really goofy” way. Like, who grabbed an extra cupcake for their driver? Schmidt, obviously, and that was really fucking endearing. But Nando couldn’t afford to have a journalist tailing him, taking pictures of him as a superhero and then running into him in his normal life. Schmidt would notice something, make connections, realize that The Tiger and Romeo Fernando Sy were one and the same, and Nando- Nando couldn’t let that happen. He hoped that this was just a coincidence, that this would never happen again, but he could almost hear Oracle’s voice whisper in his ears.

“Coincidences don’t happen in our line of work, Tiger,” she would often say. “Be careful.”

Careful was never something Nando was good at.

Nando drove Schmidt back to The Herald’s offices in silence, drove more people around the city, then finally clocked in and drove back home. Nadia was with Daniela tonight, which meant the apartment was a little quieter, a little duller, a little less home-like than before. 

Nando restlessly rattled about the kitchen as he cooked dinner for one (always lonely, always difficult to cook for one). Eventually he scarfed down some fried rice and called it good, then tried to find some sort of distraction to get rid of the restlessness. Browse phone. Consider replacing the cracked tempered glass on phone. Reconsider replacing the glass after watching a YouTube tutorial. Wonder what to do if he ran into Schmidt again- Maybe just not speak? Consider redesigning his suit to cover his entire face. Reconsider it because a new suit was expensive and he was, again, shit at sewing. Consider adopting a dog. Scroll through pictures and profiles of dogs at the local shelter and get teary-eyes over pictures of dogs wearing flower crowns

The restlessness didn’t go away, and Nando found himself standing in front of his closet, pushing aside rarely worn dress shirts and slacks until he reached a garment bag. He unzipped it, set aside the hanger where a suit jacket hung, and reached in to grab his other suit. Nando tugged on the smooth material, some kind of polyester blend with reinforced plating, and pulled the hood up and over his head.

“Just a quick patrol,” Nando promised himself. Nothing serious or strenuous, just something to work out his nerves and keep him from going out of his mind with boredom and frustration and worry. He stood on his fire escape, took a deep breath, and started to climb.

Running the rooftops didn’t solve things. It didn’t make the anxiety go away. But for a few minutes, a few hours, Nando could run and focus on something else- leap over that gap, tuck and roll, climb up that chimney, look out at the city that gleamed like a diamond necklace against the black velvet of the night. It was easy to fall into the rhythm of running, leaping, and listening to the buzz of chatter below. Eventually Nando stopped running and just… breathed. He looked out over the city, the ocean, everything, and he let himself breathe in the salty air and sharp smell of smog and- was that clove? Nando whipped around when he heard the sound of footsteps on gravel to come face to face with- who else? Fucking Schmidt.

“Oh, hey,” Schmidt said casually, still wearing the black and silver combination from earlier today.

“How the fuck did you even find me?” Nando asked. He would almost be impressed if it weren’t for the fact that he really, really hated that this was the third time he’d run into Schmidt and that Oracle was right again. No such thing as coincidences. Schmidt had to know, and if he knew-

“Got lucky, I guess,” Schmidt said with an elegant shrug. “I was taking in the night air.”

Nando wanted to call bullshit. He had an excellent radar for this kind of nonsense, and Schmidt was obviously lying. Schmidt must have sensed that Nando knew he was being less than honest and sighed.

“Fine. I saw you jump from that one office building on Hickory and 3rd and followed you,” Schmidt explained quickly. “Then I picked the lock on the maintenance entrance and climbed up to join you.”

“You followed me,” Nando replied, envisioning a map of Briarport and pinpointing his location- fuck, Schmidt tailed him for nearly thirty minutes! Nando was more than a little unnerved. No one had done that before. At least, no one followed him around and then let him know they were stalking him!

Fucking hell, Nando hoped that Schmidt wasn’t some serial killer who was going to stuff him in a fridge. Please just be a weirdo who grabs extra cupcakes for their driver and only goes by his first name, Nando thought. Just let Schmidt be a harmless weird, he pleaded to the universe, and not a serial killer weird.

“Yes,” Schmidt interrupted Nando’s panicked thought process with his crisp, low voice. “It wasn’t easy.”

“How’d you do it?” Nando asked, and Schmidt glanced away quickly. The light up here was bad, too much shadow to see clearly, but Nando was almost positive that Schmidt was blushing.

“... I borrowed my friend’s moped,” he confessed, and the image of serious, clean-cut Schmidt speeding downtown on a moped, black coat flapping in the wind, made Nando want to laugh. He managed to turn the choking bit of laughter into a cough, but Schmidt’s slightly annoyed, slightly embarrassed expression brought his laugh to the surface again. The man was _pouting_! It was almost cute.

“Oh?” Nando asked. He should go, he really, really should go, but he was a little curious about why Schmidt went to such lengths to follow him. It had to be for a good reason, right?

Or Schmidt was absolutely bonkers.

“You run very fast,” Schmidt observed, having evidently regained some of his composure.

“Yeah,” Nando replied. ”I’m impressed you kept up with me. Did you need something?”

“Is that another skill, along with the super strength?” Schmidt asked, ignoring Nando’s question.

“Not exactly? I just like running,” Nando explained, then frowned. Schmidt was kinda interesting to talk to, and kinda cute to look at, but he was definitely Off Limits. Journalist. Dangerous! He definitely needed to get out of this conversation, and soon!

“Anyways, you need to stop distracting me. Why are you here? Following me?” Nando asked, and Schmidt’s embarrassment hardened into something that looked like determined resolve, and Nando wished he could find the heart, the willpower, the sheer desperation, to take a running leap and continue the chase, because how could he say no to that face? If Schmidt’s smile was knee-weakening, his resolve was utterly devastating.

“I’ve found myself encountering a unique problem at work,” Schmidt explained slowly. “One that you may be able to help me with. Remember the slime mold from… last week?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“The pharmaceutical company behind it has been frustratingly close-lipped. I have reason to suspect that there is more to their operations than meets the eye,” Schmidt said. “I need help. And I don’t know if you and your… associates... will help me, but it’s the best option I have.”

“And the second best option?” Nando asked, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer. He had a feeling that he already knew Schmidt’s answer, and Schmidt’s little scoffing laugh and shrug just confirmed it.

“Break in by myself and hope for the best,” Schmidt declared, and that was exactly what Nando thought he’d say.

“That’s… not the most well thought out plan,” Nando said, and Schmidt had the sheer audacity to roll his grey eyes and glare at him!

“Obviously. Which is why I asked for your help. I mean, you and the other superheroes can’t be thrilled that Jilead keeps on having these breakouts and tests gone wrong,” Schmidt argued, his eyes flashing in the half-light. “How long will it be before it’s no longer a hungry slime mold looking for a dumpster to snack on, Tiger?”

Schmidt wasn’t wrong, Nando thought grimly. He wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box, he knew that, but even an idiot like him knew something was off about Jilead Inc. and all their weird tests. Nando knew that the relatively harmless, minor property damage threats couldn’t last forever. Needle and Oracle were already on their guard concerning Jilead. They reorganized their own patrol routes, then asked if he would consider swinging by the test labs when he did his patrols. If all three of them thought something was wrong, and Schmidt, an investigative journalist, also thought something was up and wanted to help…

It was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. Nando knew it was a bad idea the moment Schmidt suggested it. Close, sustained contact with someone whose job was to uncover secrets was a terrible idea- Nando had a lot of secrets that needed to be secret! But Schmidt was right- sentient slime molds the size of a car were just the beginning. And his own natural curiosity wouldn’t let this go- there was a mystery here, one that Nando wanted to dig into. He loved this kind of shit! So despite the dangers of working with a reporter, despite the risk to his privacy and his normal life, Nando knew what he was going to tell Schmidt.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nando said with a heavy sigh, and he was rewarded with Schmidt’s bright smile.

“Excellent,” Schmidt declared, and he held out his hand to Nando. “Nice to have help, Tiger.”

“Glad to help, Schmidt,” Nando replied, and he actually meant it.


	3. The man with the plan

Talking to Schmidt was a lot easier than Nando anticipated. He was weird, absolutely weird (what kind of person casually mentioned that they had a boating license of all things?!), but he didn’t mind that Nando insisted on using a burner phone or that they meet up on rooftops for their conversations. Intel exchange, Schmidt said, and when he said it it made it sound a lot cooler than what it actually was. They would hang out on a rooftop for an hour or two during Nando’s patrols, chat about whatever sort of dirt Schmidt uncovered during the day and what Nando saw at night, and then they’d go their separate ways. Sometimes Schmidt would take a picture or two. Sometimes Nando would ask Schmidt to meet up at another spot later in the night, just in case he happened to spot something else worth talking about. Sometimes Oracle and Needle joined in, bringing their own information and plans into the mix. And sometimes, like tonight, it was just Schmidt and Nando sitting on a rooftop and talking about nothing in particular.

“Here. I didn’t know if you liked coffee or not so I got you chai,” Schmidt said as he handed him a large paper cup. Nando felt the heat of the drink through the paper sleeve. He read the label and almost laughed when he realized that Schmidt dropped by one of the local coffee shops he recommended when Schmidt inadvertently hopped into his car all those weeks ago.

“Coffee’s good too,” Nando offered before taking a cautious sip of the chai. A little hot, but not too bad. It tasted good, cinnamon and cardamom and clove dancing on his tongue. Schmidt shrugged and sat on an air conditioning unit like they were in some fancy living room. Parlor, Nando corrected himself, thinking of Daniela’s love of cheesy historical English movies. Parlor, sitting room, or (he quickly took a sip of his drink to keep himself from laughing) the _drawing room_. All they needed were some stiffly starched shirts and fluffy cravats to finish the scene.

Schmidt was nearly all the way there, Nando thought as he looked the man over. It was another all black ensemble tonight, black dress boots, black trousers with delicate, barely noticeable pinstripes, and a heavy black pea coat. And there were the gloves. Always the gloves. The only spot of subtle color was the heather purple scarf Schmidt wore around his neck, the ends tucked into his coat. That was kind of like a cravat, right? Okay, he was maybe, just maybe, being a little ridiculous, but he was allowed to be a little ridiculous after the frustrating lack of progress they’d made this week.

“Thanks for the drink,” Nando said. “You didn’t have to buy one for me.”

“Wanted to. It gets cold up here,” Schmidt remarked, and Nando shrugged. It wasn’t as if the cold didn’t bother him, but a few minutes of running and climbing fixed that problem quickly enough. Still, it was nice to watch the city lights with a warm drink in hand and a friend by his side.

He supposed he and Schmidt were friends now. Friendly, at the very least. There was something endearingly earnest about Schmidt, something that cut through the snazzy, severe outfits and intimidatingly gorgeous face and made him approachable. Schmidt was serious, true, but he wasn’t stern. He seemed like a good guy, as far as Nando could tell. Nando would’ve liked being his friend! But that would mean being a lot more honest than he was currently being, and letting Schmidt closer than was safe. So a distant, professional relationship would be best, at least until he, Schmidt, and Needle and Oracle figured out what was going on in Jilead’s research labs.

It was hard to be professional when Schmidt was so damn nice all the time, though!

“Hard day at the office?” Nando asked when Schmidt sighed again.

“Impossible, really,” Schmidt replied. “The Jilead story is going to be important, I know it, but it’s hard to work on while also balancing my normal workload, and my camera broke and is at the shop so-“ He shrugged and sipped on his coffee.

“I’m making it work,” Schmidt said. “Somehow.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Nando was more than familiar with the concept of ‘making it work.’ Everything he did felt like a balancing act, or a wild race through an obstacle course, and he only ever just managed to keep it all together. He was still a decent dad to Nadia, but Nando knew he wasn’t exactly the most reliable of parental figures. He did his best, but sometimes- fine, a lot of the time- it felt like it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

“Right,” Nando said, and he finished his chai with a final gulp. “Better finish up my rounds, then get back home. My kid’s got a test she’s studying for later in the week, and she might get a question ‘bout existentialism so I need to study up.”

“Wait. You’re… married?” Schmidt asked.

“Shit, shouldn’t have… not married,” Nando quickly said. “Just my ex and I, we have a kid. Don’t tell anyone?” Fuck, he fucked up, relaxed too much, he slipped and now Daniela and Nadia would be in trouble because he was a fuck up- fuck fuck FUCK!

“I’m not about to blurt it out to the world,” Schmidt snapped. “I have ethical standards I follow, you know. I protect my sources!” There was a little note of hurt in Schmidt’s normally mellow, calm voice that cut through the panic clouding Nando’s head.

“Yeah, I- sorry, Schmidt. Get a little protective over her. My kid. She’s really smart, y’know? Going places,” Nando admitted. “Don’t wanna fuck that up for her, get her involved in… this.”

“Understandable,” Schmidt replied. “It can’t be easy, being a superhero. Or a father.”

“Sounds like whining when you say it out loud. Like, I have super strength and can recover from injuries real fast, boo hoo my life is hard!” Nando sighed and leaned against one of the chimneys. Even though he wasn’t looking at him, Nando felt Schmidt’s gaze on him like it was a hand on his shoulder. It was surprisingly comforting, like Schmidt had his back.

“I mean, it’s not the weird abilities that bug me? Like, sometimes it does. I always forget to buy band aids because I normally heal up quick enough to not need ‘em. But it’s the secrets. Hate keeping secrets,” Nando admitted. “Even with Oracle and Needle, we’re all keeping secrets from each other. It never feels safe to be open with anybody. God, I think you’re the only person who knows I have a daughter!”

“I’m honored,” Schmidt said dryly, and if it had been anyone else who said that Nando would have thought they were being sarcastic. But it was Schmidt. He probably meant it seriously, but he just sounded terribly insincere. So Nando smiled and shrugged.

“She’s a big fan of your work. Likes all your photography,” Nando said. “She wants to be a journalist someday, y’know? She’s gunning for the entertainment industry, probably so she can score an interview with BTS, but she’s always talking about your photos.” Nando didn’t mention the little board covered in cutouts that Nadia had hanging up over her desk in her room- her “inspiration board,” she called it, and it was covered in articles and pictures she liked from different reporters. Schmidt’s pictures of The Tiger were up there, along with countless K-Pop idols and an article on the reboot of Moonpaw. It was weird to see himself up there on the board right next to the idols and her favorite manga/anime, but it was a little flattering too.

“I’m good with cameras. Always have been,” Schmidt replied. “Writing is harder, but between voice to text and a good editor I manage to combat the dyslexia and exhaustion.”

“You have dyslexia?” Nando asked.

“Yep,” Schmidt said.

“Huh.”

“I better let you go, Tiger. Got to get back to writing about the mayoral race. Thanks for filling me in on what you’ve seen. Let me know if anything changes,” Schmidt said, and he started to head back to the maintenance entrance on the roof.

“Catch you next week?” Nando called out. Schmidt turned around and waved.

“Yeah. Tell me where and I’ll meet up with you,” he yelled back.

“We can go somewhere that’s… easier to get to,” Nando offered suddenly, jogging over to catch up with Schmidt by the maintenance entrance. “Like, it’ll be easier if we meet somewhere a little more accessible, right? If that’s cool with you?” Schmidt’s expression went from serious and grim to surprised. The lighting was absolute shit up on the roof, but Nando was fairly certain Schmidt was _blushing_. There was something oddly satisfying about ruffling up Schmidt, who was always so cool and collected in his monochromatic slick outfits and elegant demeanor. Nando grinned and nudged Schmidt carefully with his elbow.

“I mean, it’s kinda mean of me to make you climb up all these stairs just for you to take a picture and ask for the latest scoop,” Nando teased, and Schmidt glared at him.

“Fuck you,” he retorted, but Nando was getting pretty fluent in ‘Schmidt.’ He didn’t really mean it. Like, you didn’t go and buy someone chai from a bougie cafe if you didn’t like them at least a little bit. Right? Right. And Schmidt wasn’t going to snitch on him, wasn’t going to reveal any secrets- well, he could, but Nando’s instincts were pretty sharp. He had good people-skills. Schmidt just didn’t seem like the kind of guy who told secrets. Nando didn’t place his trust in many people, but he figured his slip-up would be safe in Schmidt’s hands.

“Send a text, let me know where you wanna meet and when,” Nando said. “Thanks for the drink!” Before Schmidt could reply Nando was already running across the rooftop, building up speed until he could make the leap and continue on until he reached his final destination: Jilead’s research labs.

The Jilead Pharmaceutical Labs were lit up with spotlights. It was always running, someone (several someones) always burning the midnight oil. At first Nando thought it was just security and janitorial staff, which, uh, yeah, they were there as well. But it soon became clear that techs and scientists were working there as well. Nando couldn’t tell _what_ was going on inside those buildings (that would require a break-in and Nando was only good at the breaking part of breaking and entering). So instead Nando sat on the metal catwalk of the water tower that was barely on the property and watched. His position was half hidden in the nighttime shadows, so he’d sit for a good hour and take notes. Observe. Jot down any unusual activity, changes in routine, whatever. And Nando could safely say that Schmidt and Needle and Oracle were right: Jilead was Up To Something.

Like, this was a “multiple midnight deliveries in unmarked vans” kind of something. It was a “security, janitorial staff, and interns don’t drive brand new, shiny Teslas around at one in the morning so these are the well paid employees” kind of thing. This was a “how much money do they dump into running this place” kind of something. Jilead was up to something, and Nando didn’t like the looks of it at all. He had good instincts, and they were screaming at him to get up, get out, and tell somebody what was up with these increased deliveries and weird work hours.

Also his legs were starting to cramp from crouching in one position for too long.

Nando stood up, stretched his legs, shook off the numbness, and made his way down the tower and back towards the city and his apartment. He’d text Schmidt in the morning. Guy was probably asleep, and it’d be pretty fucking rude to wake him up with a text about unmarked vans at Jilead’s Pharmaceutical Research Labs. Right? Right. Tomorrow morning, then, when Schmidt was well-rested, Nando would text him and drop off the new intel. Nando quickly took a few photos, blurry and off-center, before racing off into the night. Hopefully Schmidt could work with that. Maybe he could ask him for photography lessons.

He’d ask tomorrow.

-

“Oh. Hey. You’re the driver who gave me all those cafes to check out,” Schmidt remarked casually as he gracefully climbed into the backseat of Nando’s car. “Thanks for the recommendations.”

“Oh! Uh, hey,” Nando said weakly. Just a coincidence, he told himself, feeling a little hysterical when Schmidt fixed him with his pale grey stare in the rear view mirror. This was just a coincidence. Nando drove downtown often, Schmidt _worked_ downtown, so if he was going to go somewhere there was a chance he was going to get into Nando’s car. This was normal. This was fine!

“And, umm, I’m glad to hear it!” Nando said politely as he pulled into the street and took off down the road. Schmidt shrugged and looked out the window. Nando breathed out a sigh of relief. Schmidt always looked like he knew things, like he was one second away from dropping some kind of bombshell, and Nando was terrified it would be “Hey, Tiger, how are you?” Or something like that. It was just the clothes and cheekbones and whole… aura of mystery and power that Schmidt had going for him that unsettled Nando. 

Schmidt, though? Schmidt was alright. He was sure of that now. Who else went out of their way to bring him hot drinks on a cold night? And Schmidt didn’t overstep with his pictures or articles, didn’t pry into Nando’s identity or anything, didn’t push for personal details. Schmidt was respectful, and Nando trusted him. So why was he even freaking out?

Because if he let one person in on the whole secret identity thing, Nando thought grimly, others would follow. And that just wasn’t safe for anybody. The secrets sucked. They sucked so much. It weighed him down more than anything ever had in his life, but if keeping these secrets meant that the people he cared for would be safe- well, then it was worth it. It had to be.

“So how’s it going? You settling in alright?” he asked, and he glanced in the rear view mirror to watch Schmidt’s grey eyes flick from his phone and meet his own in the reflection.

“Much better,” Schmidt replied. “Making friends, seeing more of the city. Been busy, but who isn’t?” Schmidt returned to typing something out on his phone, and it was quiet. 

Nando wondered if he should pick a playlist and let the music fill the silence and help him ignore the awkward, tense atmosphere in the car. Nadia’s Playlist? No. Tunes for White Hipsters? Didn’t really seem like a Schmidt thing. Vaporwave? Maybe? Nando was pulled from his thoughts when his burner phone buzzed to life in his cup holder with an incoming text. Nando looked down at the screen and realized, with a sudden icy stab of horror, that the text was from Schmidt. Nando glanced up at the rearview mirror, but Schmidt was still looking at his phone screen and hadn’t realized what was going on. Nando quickly tossed the phone into the front passenger’s seat and hoped he didn’t look too panicked or anything. Just. Act. Natural. Just act like Schmidt was a regular customer, nothing more. Nando looked back at the road and continued his drive down to the courthouse again.

“More research for your articles today?” Nando asked politely. Schmidt shrugged before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Yes. It’s a pain, but it’s part of the gig,” he replied. “Do research, write the first draft of an article, do more research, edit the article, and then consult grammar books because you can’t remember how writing works. Rinse and repeat. Eventually you get something that works.”

“Sounds rough,” he said sympathetically. He wasn’t a writer (sucked at it, really), but he helped Nadia with her papers and articles when she needed some other eyes on it. He couldn’t imagine going over the same words over and over again, repeating until they were burned in your brain!

“It will be worth it, in the end,” Schmidt replied. “At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

Nando’s phone buzzed again. This time he managed to read part of the text before it went away. _So I was thinking about what you said last night-_

“Important call?” Schmidt asked politely, completely oblivious to the fact that he was the one sending these messages. His face was practically carved out of marble, a cool, confident, calm expression that never wavered, not for an instant. Nando flushed and fixed his eyes back on the road. He watched a woman with a high blond ponytail cross the street with a fluffy little Pomeranian on an aqua blue leash.

“Just some texts, but it can wait. I don’t text and drive,” Nando quickly replied, and ugh why didn’t he leave his burner phone at home? Oh, right, because he kept getting his two phones scrambled up so he decided it was better to just have both on him at all times, just in case he needed to get in contact with someone. It was a great plan until he fell into this sort of situation and then everything fell apart.

“Responsible,” Schmidt commented in a (once again) polite manner. He was a lot less polite when he was dealing with The Tiger, and Nando idly wondered if Schmidt kept everything he really felt buried under that restrained, polite, cool exterior. Not a good thing to wonder, of course, because wondering about Schmidt and getting comfortable and running his mouth was bad for Nando. Bad for Schmidt, as well, because what if someone else, someone who wasn’t Nando or Oracle or Needle, noticed that Schmidt was hanging around a bunch of superheroes and investigating things that certain people didn’t want investigated? So he shouldn’t wonder about Schmidt. He should really try to push him away. It was for Schmidt’s own good.

Just until the end of this Jilead mystery, Nando promised himself. 

“Got to be,” Nando agreed shortly. It would be so much easier to push Schmidt away if Schmidt wasn’t so damn likeable and Nando wasn’t so goddamn lonely and sick of pushing everyone away all the time. It also didn’t help that Schmidt was really, really easy to talk to and apparently knew how to draw anyone into conversation with his deep, calm voice and piercing grey eyes.

“So,” Schmidt drew the word out slowly, carefully, like it was something to be savored. “I’m doing a talk with some high school students for their career day next week. That’s why I’m heading to the courthouse. Getting my research in early so I’m not scrambling to catch up on my workload later on.”

“Smart,” Nando replied, easily falling into the natural rhythm of a conversation with Schmidt. “Try and keep on top of it, yeah?”

“I can do that sometimes. Being smart,” Schmidt said, and Nando heard the smile in Schmidt’s voice when he said that. “Not often, but sometimes.”

My kid’s in a journalism class, y’know. Big fan of your work, says your photographs are great,” Nando said. “Which probably sounds weird now that I say that out loud.” Yeah, definitely weird. But Schmidt didn’t seem to mind it, probably because he was a little weird too. In a good way, Nando added quickly, almost apologetically. Schmidt was weird in a really good way, like a getting drinks for superheroes and dressing like a model while riding around on a moped kind of weird.

“No, that’s fine,” Schmidt replied. “Kind of flattering, to be honest. She wants to be a reporter?”

“Yeah. She’s really into entertainment news right now, but she’s good at everything,” Nando said proudly, because being proud of Nadia was as easy as breathing. “She’s great at it, actually, but I know I’m a bit biased. Got any expert tips you’re willing to share?”

“Keep practicing, and form good relationships with your editors,” Schmidt replied. “Tell her good luck. Here’s my stop.”

“Ah. Right. Good luck with the whole,” Nando struggled to find the proper words as he pulled up to the curb. “Uh, research thing.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it,” Schmidt replied, and he climbed out of the backseat. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Hey, you do know that Two Bears Coffee Co. is open to midnight, right?” Nando blurted out. “Just… if you’re going to pull an all nighter, it’s a half block away. If you need the caffeine, that is. I mean, I don’t know if you do, but you asked about cafes last time you were in my cab so...”

“... thank you. I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Schmidt said, and the tiniest of smiles bloomed on his face. It wasn’t the charming smile he usually used, or the little smirk when he managed to surprise Nando. This one was almost shy, if a man like Schmidt could be shy.

“Until next time, right?” Schmidt added softly.

“Probably,” Nando replied, and even though he shouldn’t look forward to more encounters with Schmidt Nando’s traitorous heart leaped wildly in his chest at the idea of seeing Schmidt and drawing that tiny, sincere smile out of him.

When Schmidt finally entered the courthouse Nando reached over to the passenger’s seat and grabbed his burner phone. He clicked on his messages and scrolled through Schmidt’s texts.

_Hey. I know this is probably a bad time to talk_

_But it just came to me_

_So I was thinking about what you said last night_

_About meeting somewhere easier_

_How about Little River Plaza?_

_Tuesday night?_

_Can bring coffee_

_Or tea_

Nando hesitated. Looked back towards the courthouse just to make sure Schmidt wasn’t somehow lurking outside his window. It was all clear. He typed out a reply, scanned it to make sure it sounded normal and not at all panicked, and then sent it.

“Make it Wednesday and I’m down. Coffee’s great. D’you want me to bring food?” He asked, and he waited, holding his breath, as the text went from delivered to read, and then Schmidt was texting a response.

“Wednesday. Little River Plaza. Bring cheesecake. I like cheesecake.” Schmidt said.

“Cheesecake, then. Any requests?”

“I trust you. Anything new from Jilead?” Schmidt asked.

“Yeah. We need a plan.” Nando slowly texted. They needed a _lot_ of plans, and Nando knew he wouldn’t be able to do this on his own. He couldn’t break into Jilead by himself. He wouldn’t even know what to look for if he did! But with Schmidt, with Oracle and Needle, maybe they could do this together. Just this once, he could work on a team.

“We can work on one. Wednesday.” Schmidt promised, and Nando grinned.

“Great! See you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mini-hiatus, and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I’m sorry for my gratuitous use of The Killers. Please indulge and bear with me.


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